Counting Every Second
by Leighawen
Summary: The Doctor attended River Song's funeral. People that saw him believed him to be numb, but he wasn't. It was just too painful to cry. (4,326).


**A/N- Okay, I've been writing a fluffy story (I **_**swear**_** it's possible for me to write fluff) but angst always seems to seep into my head while doing it. I blame the Doctor Who universe and Joss Whedon. So much fluff but it's **_**always**_** surrounded by angst. I'm trying to break the habit.**

**Until then, enjoy my angsty Doctor Who oneshots.**

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The Doctor had attended River Song's funeral. He stood alone at the newly filled grave for... minutes, hours, days, years, decades? What was the point in keeping track of the time? (He did, of course, know the exact number of seconds he had been standing there- 3,782)

He wanted to be numb. Numb was good. Numb didn't hurt like _this_. This feeling like his heart- the one that his diary rested against- had been stabbed, torn to shreds, and incinerated before being torn violently from his body. It hurt to move. It hurt to _breath_e. Everything hurt. Every action, every thought, every _second_. She was _gone_. Gone and there was nothing he could do to save her. To stop her.

There were days, wonderful, amazing days when everybody lived. He had thought- the naive idiot that he was- that he _had_ saved them. Perhaps he had. Perhaps she was fine living in a fake world of her own making (he doubted it of course; he had put her in a prison that she couldn't escape).

He, The Doctor, the one who brought hope (destruction, war, wrath, death) to thousands of people. The one who saved (ruined, destroyed, broke) so many. He couldn't save her. The Women Who Married Him. His _wife_. The woman he _loved_. The woman he trusted with _everything_. He wanted to save her but he couldn't figure out _how_. He had spent years inbetween visiting the Ponds (he didn't have to explain this to them because they were gone too) coming up with plans that even _he_ knew wouldn't work.

He stood there, in front of his wife's grave, trying to be numb (people that saw him assumed he was, but it simply hurt too much to cry).

(4,326).

(4,327).

(4,328).

(4,329).

Someone walked up and stood beside him. (4,340).

"I'd say I'm sorry, but that won't do much. So instead, I'll give you some advice."

The Doctor didn't want to listen. He wanted to ignore everything that was said (but that took effort and it was hard enough to keep breathing).

"Go to her. Later, when you can handle it." (4,352).

"Why?" The Doctor demanded. Anger. Anger was good. Anger pushed back the _pain._ Anger made it possible for him to speak. "What would be the point?"

"You'd get to see her. She'd get to see you." (4,357).

"She wouldn't know me." He tried to sound angry, but it came out broken (it was even too painful to be angry for more than a second). (4,359). It hurt to talk, but he had to tell someone. For his own sanity he had to explain (it was incredibly painful, but his sanity demanded it). "I could go back. But she wouldn't know me. Not as much as I know her. I would forever be seeing a younger her. A her that wouldn't know me as well as she did on Darillium. She would never again get older. I would have all the spoilers... Always."

(4,402).

"First of all; she will always know you better than you know her. Secondly; if you have all the spoilers that means you've done Kitleran's Landing at Jandaen Seven in the Fridiaxtisa Galaxy with her and the Bossy Brunette."

(4,408).

The anger flared again and he managed to shout. "Of course I've done Kitleran's Landing at Jandaen Seven in the Fridiaxtisa Galaxy with her and the Bo-!" The Doctor paused. His brow furrowed and he forgot to count the seconds (it was still going on in the back of his mind, but an annoying drop of wary hope was settling in the forefront). "What bossy brunette?"

Captain Jack Harkness grinned. "Spoilers."

"Spoilers?" the young-looking man repeated with a growing smile (the counting was even further from the front of his mind now, but he was still aware).

"She died, Doc."

The Doctor winced at the blow. (4,421).

Jack smiled. "But somewhere out there- lots of somewheres- she's still alive and kickin' and she's waiting for you. She has plenty of spoilers for you, Doc. So go get 'em."

(4,42-)

The Doctor sprinted to the TARDIS. Spoilers! There were still spoilers! There were still lines that needed to be written! He was going to find River Song. He set coordinates with a new hope. His heart was hesitantly mending (it wouldn't really start healing until he saw River again and if he was being truthful- which was rare- he wouldn't be healed until he figured out how to keep River from dying at The Library).

The Doctor pulled back the lever and the TARDIS lurched into flight. Scenarios ran through his head, he wasn't going to stop trying to find a way to save River (in the future, in one second out of millions, he would figure it out). He _would_ save his wife, no matter how long it took.

(1).

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**END**

**A/N- I'm aware that this could mess with cannon a bit for The Snowmen. If it makes you feel better, assume he couldn't get to any River (blame the TARDIS) gave up, got depressed again, and ended up on a cloud above London to mourn the Ponds (including Melody). **


End file.
